


Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word

by Murmures1234



Series: Terror Inside Companion Pieces [5]
Category: Homeland
Genre: C-PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:04:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murmures1234/pseuds/Murmures1234
Summary: Rehab life- Rob says Sorry. Not just for the last 5 years, for everything.(Part of the Terror Inside AU)





	Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word

Rehab.  
Part of the Terror Inside companion Pieces: Peter is still on his first inpatient admission with PTSD, Rob comes and visits.Follows on from "A sign blows over", the first in this companion fic series.  
The day that Carrie had asked Rob into coming to see him had been so cathartic for him. To hear his friend say “sorry” for everything, not just his more recent actions. To know it wasn’t him going mad (which was funny, given where he was). That he had a right to expect better of his only friend. 

It had been tough. Rob had come in while he was in full blown panic attack. It was lucky, really, in hindsight that Carrie had called him as she’d left, obviously seeing the way things were going. Not lucky, just Carrie. Recognising that the love of her life was in full-blown fight or flight mode, and that poor Peter was never really one for running away. That he’d have taken the whole freaking lot of them down. 

It scared him, his rage. Some days he felt nothing but exhaustion, but some days rage just surged through him. 

The day had started so well. 

Little Frannie had insisted on Mummy bringing him their favourite Curry for breakfast. The one time Peter had told her that Curry had lots of things in it that made you feel better (he’s been thinking about ginger and turmeric), she’d taken it to extreme and was now insisting herself on curry flavoured items for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He’d personally avoided eating curry for a long time until his Birthday a few short months ago, knowing it was guaranteed to take him straight back to the far-flung corners of the world. He’d risked it on his Birthday, and Frannie had stolen the left overs, sparking her obsession. Him and Frannie had had curry once a week ever since then. No problems. 

No problems. 

But with the curry, this time, had come Peter’s records of his time in Care. 

Carrie had tried to suggest that he looked at it with his therapist, but he’d been too impatient. He’d spent too long with his memory of his childhood fragged, not knowing why certain sights, sounds and smells sparked such conflicting feelings inside him. 

He’d had a quick glance when Carrie had taken Frannie to the canteen to buy a bottle of juice. 

He’d just opened it on a random page. 

And it was a page of notes on his first police interview after he killed the care worker who’d been assaulting the little girl he had promised to protect. 

It had been the first time he met Dar. 

He was lost after that. 

Carrie had come back in with Frannie, who’d jumped straight into the arms of her Daddy, unperturbed at the tears rolling down his face.  
But Carrie had seen the change in him. 

The little red headed girl was melting in his head with the little brown haired girl he’d cradled when he was just 16. The little brown haired girl was melting into little Fara Sherazi, who’d been just 7 when he’d first tried to protect her, and just 21 when he’d royally fucked it up and watched her bleed out in Max’s arms. 

“You looked,” Carrie said, non-judgementally but factually. “That’s ok, I’d have looked too.” 

Peter stared back into Carrie’s eyes, trying to ground himself in their vivid blue but he was almost too far away. 

Too far away, and shit scared. 

His jaw clenched, and he nodded imperceptibly. Clutching Frannie. 

“Frannie…” Carrie said gently to her daughter. “Nurse Rosa is here in 5 minutes, why don’t you go and see if you can surprise her.” 

Frannie giggled, exfiltrated herself from her Daddies’ arms and ran out the door, laughing. 

“Talk to me Peter,” she’d said, as soon as the door shut. Grabbing onto his hand, looking him square in the face. 

Peter swallowed, his mouth gaping, words not coming out. 

Carrie waited, just rubbing his hand, trying to ground him. 

The voices in his head were screaming at him.

 _“Toxic. Soldier. Toxic Soldier. TOXIC.”_

That voice from years ago in Iraq.  
_“I know of men who have taken lives needlessly in other conflicts,  
And they live with the Mark of Cain upon them.” _

The little girl he failed to protect.  
_“You promised you’d protect me, and he hurt me. Where were you? Where were you?”_

Dar, in that Police interview room.  
_“You could be something great, you could do great things.”_

Dar in that Hotel suite that night. His sweaty hands all over him.  
_“You could be something great kiddo, you could do great things. You’re my guy now Peter. You’re my guy”_

Cutting that vest from Fara.  
_“Which way is Mecca? They said we should face Mecca and do Shahadah when we’re going to die”_

His foster carer when he was seven.  
_“You killed your mother, you little devil. You will live with the Mark of Cain upon you! Everyone you care about will die”_

Peters face was white, his eyes open. He pulled his hand to his head, made a fist and started rubbing his head. Everything was swimming, he was swimming, in and out of reality. 

There was a huge crash outside.

Peter jumped off of the bed, and was on the floor trembling, just as the door opened. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs Mathieson. Your daughter’s just been Ill, she’s vomited everywhere. I’m afraid I’ll need to cut short your visiting hours.” 

The nurse looked between Peter, shaking and white, cowering on the floor, and Carrie, looking perhaps the most concerned she ever looked. 

For Peter, reality was still swimming, but he recognised Carrie and recognised that Carrie’s daughter was someone he loved. 

“Go. Look after Red. I’ll be ok.” 

Carrie looked torn. 

“Mrs Mathieson, I’ll look after Peter here. You look after your daughter.” 

Peter, trembling, stood up and sat back down on the bed, face still white. 

Reality still swimming. He clenched his Jaw. 

“Red’s more important, go.” 

“She’s not more important, she’s equally important. Are you going to be ok? Do you want me to phone Rob maybe?” Carrie asked, grateful beyond words that that man was back in Peter’s life. 

Peter nodded, imperceptibly. 

“Is that that you’re ok, or you want Rob?” 

“Rob… please. I’m worried I’ll hurt someone.” 

“Mr Quinn,” the nurse tried gently, mindful Peter was here voluntarily and they couldn't force it. “We can give you a sedative if you like.”

“No. No sedative. Still dream.” Was all Peter could get out. 

Carrie still looked torn, but another nurse knocked and highlighted the urgency of Frannie being removed from the hospital with her vomiting. 

As she left, she phoned Rob. 

He was only 10 minutes away, newly back from operation and with danger pay to burn through, he’d booked a hotel near the hospital to be there for his friend. 

He had years to make up for after all. 

Years of being the most terrible friend imaginable. 

And that wasn’t just the years he hadn’t been in contact. He realised that now. He should have stood between Dar and Peter early on, years ago. He should complained as much as it had taken, as high as it had taken, when Dar recruited a shit-scared kid. He shouldn’t have stood by as Dar abused him. He should have whistleblown.

He realised now, that that had made him as bad as Dar. And that was a horrible thought. The guilt had almost destroyed him. 

_Evil prevails when good men do nothing_

He should have stood up to Dar when he kept insisting on his re-deployment, despite of the fact that Rob knew Peter was one step away from the edge of the cliff. He should have highlighted that Peter was leaving a trail of bodies on deployment, often not the target, but that Peter was like a wave of fury playing judge, jury and executioner. 

But Rob had been selfish, he realised that now. The kid was an incredible shot, and they were safer together. The kid had been good company too, the little brother he never had. 

Deployments with Peter became convenient before long. 

He knew how Peter thought, how Peter operated. He trusted Peter with his life. The thought of deploying with a brand new, green OPPO after all they had been through together. Capture, escape, evasion. Well, that thought filled him with dread. 

And Peter had been good, really, really good. 

Of course, he’d not plucked up the courage to apologise yet. 

He couldn’t, he didn’t know where to start. 

His latest girlfriend would tell him to start at the beginning. 

But nothing was ever that easy. 

Sorry really was the hardest word. 

Rob was scared. The fact of the matter was, he valued Peter, and he didn’t want to lose him. 

Peter was the most reliable, most loyal friend Rob had ever had. 

When Rob got to the hospital, although it had only been 10 minutes, things were bad. 

Two huge hospital security guys were trying unsuccessfully to pin Peter down. A window was broken, Peter had glass all over his hands. A piece in his fist, cutting his palm to shreds. The white shirts of the security guys was covered in blood. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” Rob said to the nurse. 

“Carrie had to leave,” she said. “She said he’d looked at his Care records, he’s having flashbacks, really bad. It doesn’t help that we don’t know what it is.”  
Rob could guess. 

Both the security guys looked just like the people who’d captured them in Afghanistan when they’d been captured by Haqqani, all those years ago. It was a fair bet that that was what was going on here, especially with the remanants of breakfast curry scattered across the room.

But he realised the Care records added another spectrum. 

Peter was screaming bloody murder. His fists everywhere, and all of a sudden he was out of their grip, in the corner of the room, in a combat stance, piece of glass in his hand. 

The two security guys were advancing. 

“Stand down!” Rob shouted authoritatively. “I’ve got this,” he said, stepping forwards. 

“Sir… he’s been very violent.” The security guy started. 

Peter was shaking like a trapped animal, sweating, eyes darting left to right. 

“Rightly so. I trained him. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” 

The security guys stayed stood where they were as Rob approached his friend, hands out. 

“Peter. You need to stand the fuck down. That’s an order.” 

Peter didn’t move. 

“Quinn. Stand the fuck down, NOW!” 

The glass clattered out of his hand, as he recognised Rob. A blood hand went to Robs face, as Peter touched his friends’ cheek, obviously trying to make sure he was real. 

“Rob… You need to run, they’re here. They will get you!” 

“You’re not in Afghan Quinn. You’re stateside. You’re safe, you’re in hospital. Something triggered a flashback. Your nurse thinks you looked through your care records. But you’re safe Peter, honest.” 

Peter looked around at the chaos, reality swimming back in. 

“I mean, I know you don’t like hospitals Pete, but this is excessive, really!” Rob commented wryly. 

“What… the…fuck…?” Said Peter, struggling to take it all in as he came out of his dissasociative state. 

A smile ghosted across Robs face, Peter was back in the room. 

Peter looked at his hands, covered in blood. His eyes widened. 

“What happened?” 

Rob put his arm around Peter. 

“Come on, sit down. Let’s look at those hands of yours, then you can tell me what happened.” 

“I don’t know what happened?” Said Peter, confused but compliant, moving back with Rob to his bed. He sat down. 

“Can you get me a first aid kit?” Rob said to the nurse. “I’ll clean him up, I’m a qualified EMT.” 

The nurse nodded, and nodded at the security guys to leave with her. 

“So…” started Rob. “I think you read something in your Care records that triggered a flashback. Do you want to tell me what it was?” 

Peter shook his head. 

“You didn’t, or you don’t want to tell me?” 

The door opened, the nurse passed over the first aid kit and left again. 

Obviously Rob was the right person to be in here right now. 

“I…. I don’t want to tell you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m ashamed. I feel so dirty.” 

“You read your Police interview? The one Dar went to as your ‘social worker’?” Rob asked. 

Peter looked up at Robs face suddenly, tears in his eyes. 

“How did you know?” he asked softly. 

“Because I’m ashamed of that day too Peter,” Rob said softly. Peter’s eyes were streaming silent tears now, like waterfalls. 

Rob was suddenly concerned that Peter might think he was ashamed of him. 

Fuck. 

Well. 

Now was as good a time as any. 

Sorry really is the hardest word. 

“Not because I met you, never because of that. But because I crossed a line that day. I crossed a line between right and wrong, a line I could have crossed back so many times since then. I should have stopped Dar, I should have complained. Hell, our IT guy had audio recording of him assaulting you, I should have gone to the Police. I was an adult. You were a kid. A shit scared kid and I didn’t protect you. The mission was the most important thing to me, and I’m so so sorry.” 

Peters’ eyes continued to stare at Rob. 

“No one stops Dar Adal,” Peter stated. 

That hadn’t been what he was expecting. 

“I should have tried though. But even after that I should have done more,” Rob continued. “So many times, so many times I could have put an end to it. I could have vetoed our re-deployment after our capture by Haqqani. I should have highlighted our Solo excursions, highlighted your drinking. I could have supported you trying to leave. I knew you wanted to, Astrid told me. But I was selfish. I was so, so selfish, and I’m so, so sorry. Not just for the last five years Pete. I’m sorry for everything. And I’m sorry you read what Dar did to you by yourself too.” 

Peter broke. 

It was the most heart-breaking thing he had ever seen. Pete was the strongest man he knew, and here he was, a shell. 

“I feel so dirty Rob,” he managed to sob out. “I just feel has hands over me. Like I will never be clean again. Him saying ‘you’re my guy’. I still dream it, does that make me sick?” 

Rob just rubbed his friends shoulder. After a while, an exhausted calm ensued. 

“I want to read the rest of my records Rob, but I’m scared.” 

“Scared of what?” 

Peter looked around at the carnage. 

“You won’t be reading them alone Pete. I’ll be here with you, every step of the way.” Rob pulled the younger man into a side hug. 

“You’re my freaking OPPO. I left you out here in the wilderness, alone once. I won’t do it again. When do you want to do it?” 

“Now.” Was all Peter responded. 

“Now?” Rob asked, confused. 

“Yea, before Red gets back. I want it to be out the way, so I can be her Dad properly.” 

Rob looked into his friends face, and saw a steely flash of determination.  
_That little girl really meant everything to him. It wasn't for Carrie that Peter was pulling himself out of the dark, it was for a little ball of red spirit._  
"She just reminds me that there is some good in the world Rob. She's so goddamed funny. She's not tainted." 

“Ok,” Rob said, smiling. “Now it is then.” 

And so page, by page, Peter rediscovered the bits of his life he'd forgotten. Rob stayed all night, waking Peter up as he was reliving it. Talking through nightmares and flashes of memories. 

Just over 48 hours later, a ball of red spirit bundled her way through the door and into Peter's exhausted arms. 

Rob smiled at the scene, and then at Carrie. 

"Daddy, Daddy, guess what happened in School today." Frannie said. 

"I don't know Red, why don't you tell me?" 

"A police-man officer came to talk to us in assembly. He's just like you, he used to be a Soldier and then he got Sad, and then he became a Police-man officer. He told us all about how he gets to drive around the city really really fast, and how he makes sure the scary people don't hurt the nice people. I want to be a Police-man officer now too!"

Peter smiled. And Rob smiled. 

Little Frances Mathieson was quite something, he thought to himself. 

The other thought that enveloped him was that his knew girlfriend was right. 

Sorry was the hardest word, but it had been the right word to say. 

It had been the only word he could have said. 

The years of guilt and self-loathing were finally beginning to lift from Robs' shoulders too. 

Maybe it would take years to right all the wrongs he had done to Peter Quinn, but he had to start somewhere. 

And sorry had been the hardest place to start. 

But it had been a start.


End file.
